


Topaz

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Principátus [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe – Angels & Demons, Angels, Busking, Developing Relationship, Discussion of Faith/Religion, Family, Gen, Haunted House, Haunting, Immortality, Immortals, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22863778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Prowl's life had just begun to settle back into normality, if you disregarded the supernatural being staying in his room, when Jazz didn't come home from the Bight one evening.Upon arriving in Praxus, Jazz starts to get his life in the mortal world in order with Prowl's help.
Relationships: Developing Jazz/Prowl, Jazz & Prowl
Series: Principátus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1230746
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Topaz

A mega-cycle ago, on a dare from his sibling, Bluestreak, and his friends Trailbreaker and Hound, Prowl of Praxus had agreed to spend the night in a 'haunted' house to prove there was no such thing as ghosts. Prowl had expected to spend a quiet night reading, then sleeping, in an abandoned house, nothing more. Everything had been going to plan right up until Prowl, exploring before settling in for the night, had entered the attic. There he had found a being in the shape of a mech, chained and trapped. The being, using the designation Jazz, had been called and bound by the conjurer who'd owned the house. Prowl had freed them, inadvertently releasing a second entity, one who had been corrupted into a demon. The demon could not be allowed to get free of the house and, weakened by their captivity, Jazz could not banish them and fight them at the same time. Prowl had fought the demon while Jazz had completed the banishment.

After the fight, Jazz had been healed of energy deprivation and damage by what Prowl could only think of as their kin. Jazz had decided to stay on Cybertron, but neither they nor Prowl had the least desire to remain in the house. Prowl and Jazz had left, along with Bluestreak, Hound, and Trailbreaker, and taken shelter for the night in a monastery located between the house and Praxus, their home city. There, Jazz had discovered something they had to take care of and, while Prowl had stayed with them, Bluestreak, Hound, and Trailbreaker had had to leave.

Prowl took point as he and Jazz drove back to Praxus, a few cycles after Prowl's sibling and friends had left the monastery. Jazz's alt mode was sleek and aerodynamic, like a racer's. It didn't look like any vehicle Prowl was familiar with, and he wondered if Jazz had created it themselves or if it was from further back in Cybertronian history. Prowl was tempted to ask, but he had so many more questions running through his mind right now that was hardly the one at the front of the queue. Prowl had been so sure, so confident, of his understanding of the world and in less than a megacycle, it had all been upset. If Jazz was real, if the demon Prowl had fought and the thing that had been feeding on Censer were real, what else could be? What else was out there that Prowl didn't know about – that maybe nobody knew about?

Prowl spent the rest of the drive re-analyzing everything he'd ever heard about supernatural creatures in light of what he'd just learned. It wasn't comforting.

' _You doing okay there, Prowler?'_ Jazz asked over comms as they approached the city limits.

' _Yes?'_ Prowl was physically fine, but he wasn't entirely sure that was what Jazz meant.

' _You don't sound sure,_ ' Jazz observed. ' _Hey, that's fine. You just had your worldview tipped upside down, and this drive's been the first chance you've had to really think about what you just went through. You don't know me well yet, but you can talk to me.'_

Prowl didn't doubt that, but he wanted to talk to his creator first. Hunter would help him put things in perspective.

' _Maybe later,_ ' he offered to Jazz. ' _I'm still analyzing the experiences._ ' He changed the subject. ' _You'll need somewhere to stay._ ' And funds and identity documents, but all that could come later. One thing at a time. ' _I'll have to check with my creators, but I'm sure they won't mind if you stay with us till you're established. Perhaps my creators can help you with some means of personal financing as well.'_

Prowl's family's apartment didn't have a guest room, but Jazz could take Prowl's room, and Prowl could double up with Bluestreak. Or, if Bluestreak wanted to stay with Hound and Trailbreaker, then Jazz could use Bluestreak's room instead.

' _I was just going to busk, maybe see if I can get a gig somewhere, at least until I have to head off to Iacon and see what's what there. Busking's still a thing, right?_ '

Yes, it was. There was a reasonably talented vibra-lute player who played for shanix near the little park across from Prowl's Enforcer station. Prowl liked to stop at a little café nearby and listen to them sometimes.

' _Yes. You'll need a permit,_ ' Prowl told Jazz. ' _I can lend you the shanix to cover the initial cost._ '

' _I appreciate it, Prowl, thanks._ _Any thoughts on a good spot for me to set up?_ '

The places where street performers could make the most money were also those that were most in-demand. Prowl had a feeling that Jazz would be able to earn a living no matter where he went.

' _The Helix Gardens are very popular,_ ' Prowl told him. A permit to perform there would be more expensive than a less heavily attended location, but Prowl would readily lend Jazz enough to cover it. ' _But there are only a limited number of permits available. You might not be able to get your first choice. Your opportunity to earn may be affected._ '

' _I don't need much. Shelter and fuel for this form, that's just about it._ '

' _You'll need an established credit history and current identity documents to obtain a residence,_ ' Prowl pointed out. ' _Plus an address to apply for the permit. You can use mine for the permit application if you stay with us._ '

_'Thanks again, Prowler. One_ _of the temples will put me up if I go there, but I've got to admit I'd rather stay with you._ '

Prowl liked the way that statement made him feel, even though he hadn't known Jazz for any time at all. ' _I think I would prefer that as well._ '

* * *

At his building, as they were taking the lift to his floor, Prowl pinged his habsuite to see which members of his family were at home. Prowl's creator, Hunter, was although Prowl would have liked it if his sator, Breakneck, had been there as well.

"You've got a pretty nice place here, Prowler," Jazz remarked, running their fingers over the decorative inlay in the walls of the lift car. "Mortals sure have changed a lot since the last time I was walking among you."

Prowl's building was like hundreds of others throughout the city, new, but not overly so, on the upper mid-range in cost, and decorated almost in a standardized fashion. Still, given where Prowl had found Jazz, it was a definite improvement, not least because Prowl was quite sure it lacked demons.

"What were we like the last time?" Prowl asked.

"There were fewer of you," Jazz said. "You lived in villages, mostly. A lot of you were nomadic. You were so new," they continued as the two mecha left the lift, having reached Prowl's floor, "so curious, just starting to develop music and art and writing. You'd been created with language but hadn't started developing dialects and accents – not quite. That came as you spread across the planet. I can hardly wait to start learning about what you've come up with since."

"I hope you're not disappointed," Prowl murmured as they reached his door.

"Got to have negatives to make you appreciate the positives, Prowler."

Prowl supposed that was true. He stepped through the door, followed by Jazz, and called out to his creator.

"In the kitchen, sweetspark!" Hunter called out. "You'll have to come here, I can't leave this right now."

Prowl went to the kitchen, followed by Jazz. Hunter was hovering over what would be energon treats, mixing ingredients over low heat to be poured into the waiting moulds.

"Hi, Prowl," Hunter said to his creation. He looked over Prowl's shoulder and smiled at Jazz. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Jazz," Prowl introduced them. "Jazz, this is my creator, Hunter of Praxus."

If Hunter found it odd that Prowl didn't introduce Jazz with his place of origin, he didn't say anything.

"Hello, Jazz, it's good to meet you," Hunter said. "I'd greet you properly, but I really can't leave this until it's in the moulds."

"No problem," Jazz said. "I'm pleased to meet you, too. I don't know what you're making there, but it smells great."

Hunter looked pleased with the compliment to his cooking. "Thank you."

"Creator, Jazz needs somewhere to stay for a while," Prowl said. "I had thought he could stay here? I can double up with Bluestreak."

"Well, I can't see it being a problem, though we'll check your sator doesn't have plans before we confirm anything. How long is a while?" Hunter wanted to know.

Prowl had no idea. "Well, we're not entirely sure. Ah…"

Jazz put their hand on Prowl's shoulder. "Hey, you want me to wait somewhere else so you two can talk?"

"If you don't mind?" Prowl asked, grateful for Jazz's intuitive understanding. Jazz assured him that they did not, and Prowl gave them directions to the apartment's balcony. Jazz would probably like to look over the city, or at least feel the fresh air.

Hunter took the treat mixture off the heat and shut down the burner, then began to fill the waiting moulds with the sweet-smelling gel.

"Prowl," Hunter said quietly once they heard the balcony doors slide close. "Is everything alright? Where exactly did you and Bluestreak go last night? I know you were safe, but it's not like you two to leave like that."

Prowl told him the story of the dare, and how Prowl had explored the abandoned house but hesitated when he got to the part about the attic stairs, stumbling over his words. It wasn't the first time he'd told the story, he'd related it to Bluestreak, Hound, and Trailbreaker last night, but here, in his home, with his creator making candy the setting was so _normal._ The juxtaposition suddenly seemed so jarring that Prowl felt the real horror of the past mega-cycle finally beginning to set in, and his voice faltered. Hunter set the now-empty bowl down on the counter and tipped his creation's chin up to look into his face.

"Prowl? Talk to me."

"I love you," Prowl blurted out and hugged his creator. Hunter hugged him back, tightly, rubbing his back gently between his doors.

"I love you, too, brightspark," Hunter said, an edge of concern in his voice. "Prowl, this Jazz – did they hurt you? Did something happen? You're safe here, you can tell me anything, anything at all."

"No." Prowl shook his head. "Jazz didn't hurt me. I'm not in any danger from them."

"Did something happen to Bluestreak? Or Hound or Trailbreaker?"

"No." Prowl shook his head again. He stepped back, and his creator let go of him reluctantly. "I'll-I'll transfer you the data. It'll make more sense if you get my sensory impressions as well."

"All right," Hunter said slowly. "But here," he opened the cooling unit, slid in the fresh treats and pulled out a tray. "Have some of the treats I made earlier while you wait for me to analyze it, okay?"

Prowl had already packaged up the relevant data. He connected to his creator and transferred it over, then disconnected. Hunter patted his hand gently, sat down, and took a few kliks to review the information. Prowl nibbled on a couple of goodies while he waited, and he did feel better once he'd finished them. Prowl hadn't given his creator _everything_ – Hunter didn't need to know how afraid Prowl had been during the fight with the demon, for instance – but he hoped he'd given enough.

"Oh, Prowlie," Hunter said softly when he'd finished going over Prowl's memories. It had been a long time since either of his creators had used the nickname they'd given him when he was a juvenile. Prowl knew his creator was upset, worried, and possibly frightened about what Prowl had been through over the past mega-cycle.

"Everything's fine now," Prowl said quickly. "I'm not damaged." Not anymore, anyway, and Hunter didn't need to know about that. "I just – I know it happened, I just don't know how to deal with it. I never…and Jazz is…the parasite was…"

"Hey, hey, shh, brightspark." Hunter got up and hugged Prowl, stroking his helm. "You're home now, you're safe. I'll help you. Did you keep a copy of Jazz's ID databurst?"

"I don't think they have one." But Jazz had said that when they were in mech form, they effectively were a mech, so he should have. Maybe they hadn't been in use the last time Jazz had taken mortal form? "They didn't send one back when I sent them mine. I believe them about being a – I believe them, Creator."

"I see." Hunter sighed. "Prowl, are you sure you want Jazz to stay here? You're not under duress of any kind?"

"I'm sure, and I'm not under any kind of duress. Jazz staying here instead was my idea," Prowl explained. "Just until they can get established. I have a plan to help them out with that, as well."

"Alright, although we'll still have to check with your Sator. But," Hunter stepped back and tipped Prowl's chin up so he could look his creation in the optics, "if I see any kind of problems, any sign you're not completely comfortable, out they go. Fair?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes, Creator."

"Good." Hunter released him. "Go on and check on our friend. Take some of the treats with you, too."

Prowl took the plate of treats, his favourites, out to the balcony where Jazz was leaning on the railing and gazing out over the city. They turned and smiled at Prowl.

"Thought your Creator might want to come and interrogate me," they joked. "No," they assured Prowl when he began to protest. "It's cool. Your Creator's just looking out for you. Can't blame them for being cautious when you bring a strange mech in and ask if they can stay. Especially when you're not sure how long they'll be staying."

"I showed him most of the memories of last night and this morning," Prowl said. "I included sensory and emotional input, so he knows it was real. So far as housing goes, he's going to check with Sator, but you'll likely be able to stay here until you're settled."

Jazz smiled. "I appreciate it, Prowl. I don't need much, just someplace to rest and shelter."

"And refuel," Prowl added, holding out the plate of treats. "Please, have some. "

Jazz's visor brightened happily. "Candy? Thanks, Prowler!" They tried one, savouring it. "Oh, wow. These are _good_. Your Creator's got some talent. Did they teach you?"

"He did, but I don't have the same amount of talent," Prowl said. "Although, I can turn out an acceptable tray of energon goodies – most of the time." He didn't quite have the knack for extra flair – Hunter always knew how to add that little extra bit of magnesium or some sparkle with silver or gold – but Prowl could follow a recipe perfectly every time.

"Of course you can," Jazz said, with a lot more confidence than Prowl felt in himself. "Plus, even if it isn't your main talent, you've got plenty more."

"I, ah…" Prowl knew he was intelligent, capable, even skilled in certain areas. But while he knew it, he didn't have nearly the same solid certainty in himself that Jazz seemed to have. "Let me show you where you'll be staying," Prowl offered, instead of really responding.

Jazz let it go. "Sure, Prowler. Does it have a view, too?"

"Yes, but it's not quite as impressive, and there's no balcony," Prowl told him. Jazz didn't seem to mind.

Prowl hadn't had time to tidy up his room beforehand, of course, but it was still neat, apart from some hobbies and equipment he had scattered around.

"You grow crystals, huh?" Jazz said approvingly, spotting the potted crystals on Prowl's desk. "I like the little branching miniature one."

"It's a miniature tri-colour fluorite," Prowl explained. "They can be difficult to grow, but I'm doing my best."

"Looks good to me. How long have you been working on it?" Jazz asked, interested.

"It was a gift from my creators when I reached adolescence and got my upgrades," Prowl said, walking over to the bed and triggering a cleaning cycle. He didn't refuel or snack in bed, so it wasn't as if it were dirty, per se, but it was just good manners to have a guest sleep in a freshly cleaned bed. "It was a seedling when I got it, and I've been caring for it for twelve stellar-cycles now. They take nearly a vorn to begin to show their colours, and that's only if you provide them with the right minerals."

"So, your creators gave you something that requires patience and care." Jazz nodded. "Appropriate for you, Prowler."

"Thank you," Prowl murmured, still shy about being complimented.

Prowl gave Jazz a quick tour of the apartment, starting with the wash racks Jazz could use and ending back where they'd started in the kitchen. While Prowl had been showing Jazz around, his Sator, Breakneck, had come home and was helping Hunter clean up the aftermath of baking.

' _I sent him the data you sent me, love,_ ' Hunter told Prowl, referring to Breakneck. ' _We'll talk in a little bit, just the three of us, okay? Your sibling isn't coming home for dinner tonight._ '

"Hello, Jazz," Breakneck said. "Hunter was just telling me about you. We're prepared to let you stay, but we'd like to talk to Prowl again before we make a final decision. I hope you understand."

Jazz nodded. "Course." They put a had on Prowl's shoulder. "I'll be on the balcony till you're ready for me again, okay?"

Prowl felt relieved but not surprised. Jazz had consistently proven themselves to be considerate, and Prowl had told them he felt the need to talk to his creators.

"Thank you, Jazz."

"Tell us what's on your mind, Prowl," Breakneck said gently, sitting down at the table with his spouse and eldest creation once Jazz had left. Prowl was seated between his creators, which made him feel a little like a juvenile again but also safe. Breakneck put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently and soothingly.

Prowl went through it all again, this time not just venting but letting his creators question him closely. Laying out the facts calmly, having to quantify and qualify what he'd experienced, helped but he couldn't entirely bring everything down to the stable and rational. Not even with Hunter calmly walking him through it.

"I feel like it's not something I'll ever really be able to explain to someone else," Prowl admitted finally. "Like I'll never be able to give them the real explanation of what I felt."

"Some things aren't readily explicable," Breakneck reminded him. "Especially with something like this. You have to base what you believe it to have been not just on facts but on what you feel."

"What _do_ you feel, Prowlie?" Hunter prompted.

Prowl thought about it, trying to decide what worked best, and finally said simply, "I feel it's real. I believe Jazz."

Breakneck hugged Prowl, arm around his shoulders. "And we believe you."

* * *

The next day, Prowl accompanied Jazz to the nearest Municipal Government Services office to help him apply for a busking permit and find a location in which to perform. He took Jazz on an indirect route, thinking they might want to see more of the city they'd been so fascinated by last night. The permit would be the easiest document to acquire for Jazz, though they didn't seem concerned, saying there were procedures in place at the Temple. Prowl supposed that made sense, since the Temple priests also controlled the kindling of sparks through Vector Sigma. All that was needed for a busking permit was a current address in Praxus, which could even be a hotel. Plenty of buskers were seasonal, travelling Cybertron on regular or semi-regular routes.

The only sticking point was when the clerk asked Jazz what their city of origin was. Jazz just smiled and said, "oh, I'm kind of from everywhere. The first place on Cybertron I really remember is Simfur."

A few kliks later, Jazz of Simfur left the Government Services office with a new busking permit and a spot in the Topaz Bight, a park down the street from the Helix gardens. It was built around a naturally occurring vein of blue topaz that was said to look like a river. Less famous than the Helix Gardens, it was still well-travelled, and Jazz would be able to make a decent living there. Prowl had loaned Jazz a small container in which to collect their shanix, and Jazz didn't have anything else in the way of setup, not even an instrument. Whatever entities they answered to had restored them to Cybertron with no gear whatsoever. Jazz didn't seem bothered by that at all, saying if they _really_ needed anything they could go to the Temple. Having seen Parament's reaction to Jazz at the monastery, Prowl had no doubt they would assist him without much, if any, debate. Jazz had plans to buy an instrument later, once they'd built up some cash, but for now, they were going to sing. Prowl would have stayed the whole shift to listen to them, but he had to work. That didn't mean he was entirely comfortable leaving Jazz alone in a strange, to them, city when they weren't used to Cybertron any more.

"I'll be fine," Jazz had reassured Prowl. "You found me when I was starving and weak, yeah, but I'm all healed up now. It's good of you to worry, but I can look after myself. You go to work, and I'll see you tonight." Jazz smiled warmly at him, gaze tracing over Prowl's face. "Have a good day, Prowler."

Prowl had had the sudden feeling that Jazz would like to kiss him, that all Prowl would have to do was ask. Prowl wasn't sure what he wanted. He'd just barely met Jazz, and he was still working through what their presence, what Prowl had experienced with them, really meant. But Jazz would never, never push Prowl for more than he was ready to give. Prowl knew that without having to be told. So he wished Jazz a good day as well and went to work as normal, hoping everything would be back to usual once he got back to his routine.

* * *

Prowl worked in forensics and typically spent his entire day in the lab unless he was called to a scene. Bluestreak was still a patrol mech and spent his days driving his route around Praxus. Hunter, his creator, was a detective in another precinct.

The city of Praxus was generally quiet and crime-free, and much of what Prowl worked on was minor. He usually handled evidence brought in by evidence technicians, and rarely visited crime scenes himself. He'd never even had to appear in court, though some of the senior technicians had used his work in their testimony. Prowl's work had been praised, and he was very steadily working his way up through the ranks, but he was still very much a junior member of the department. Usually, Prowl enjoyed the challenges his work brought him, but that day his tasks were fairly routine. Routine and the steady, rational, application of science helped calm the last of Prowl's unsettled feelings, and he hardly even noticed the time passing by. In fact, the only reason he realized his shift was over was when he recognized a mech from the evening shift who asked if he was done with a scanner.

_Damn!_ He'd told Jazz he'd meet him at the park when he was done his shift. Prowl swiftly finished up his work, cleaned his station, and headed to the Bight.

Jazz was just finishing up a song as Prowl hurried over to them, and they gave him a brilliant smile. Jazz bowed gracefully to their audience, scooping up and subspacing the container with their earnings as they did, and walked over to greet Prowl.

"Hey, Prowler," they said happily. "Got caught up at work, did you?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," Prowl apologized. "I didn't mean to make you wait."

"It was just a couple breems," they assured him. "Enough time for a few more songs, and anyway, I enjoy singing. It's no problem, really. I might work the evening once your creators are okay with the idea of me in the apartment alone."

"I'm sure they don't distrust you," Prowl said quickly.

"Oh, so am I. But it's just a sensible precaution, isn't it?" Jazz put their hand on Prowl's arm, almost as if they were going to take it like mecha sometimes did while strolling together. Their next words just confirmed it. "Do you want to walk through the park a bit? I've been here all day, but I haven't gotten a chance to see it. Unless your creators are expecting you home?"

They wouldn't be. No one in Prowl's family really had what anyone would call regular hours, so dinner together was enjoyable when it happened, but not exactly expected.

"I haven't walked through here in a while," Prowl said honestly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken time out of his day for a simple stroll. "I'd like that."

"Alright." Jazz smiled warmly at him. "Let's go."

Jazz didn't take Prowl's arm after all, but they walked side-by-side through the little park and Jazz told Prowl amusing anecdotes about some of the things he'd see that day. Prowl, who had been inside all day head-down in his work, liked hearing about what mecha did in the sunshine all day. Too, after the long day spent mostly in one place, it was good to walk for a while. Jazz kept pace beside him and looked around while he talked, appreciation clear on his face. They found and followed the vein of blue topaz, down to a maze of thickly growing crystals.

"Want to go in?" Jazz asked, looking over at Prowl. "You seem like a mech who likes mysteries."

Prowl nodded. "I do, yes." Wasn't that how he'd met Jazz in the first place? Well, trying to disprove the existence of spirits, but it was a mystery of a kind, he supposed.

Jazz grinned at him. "Alright."

The path in the maze was narrower, and Prowl's doors meant they couldn't walk side by side. Prowl fell back a bit and let Jazz lead. In short order, he was very sure they were lost, but he didn't care. Jazz was clearly enjoying the trip, and Prowl was just as happy to follow them and watch them explore. The crystal maze was carefully cultivated to look wild, and some of the dead ends had little sculptures in them. Jazz stopped to examine each one.

"Your first attempts were so crude," they murmured, touching a basalt statue of two dancers. "But I knew you had potential, and now look at everything you've accomplished."

Prowl had never exactly studied art, but he could see that the sculpture was very well done. The dancers were graceful and delicate, their seeming fragility juxtaposed against the durability of the stone. He said as much, half-expecting…he didn't know what response, but Jazz responded by looking up at him and smiling.

"Exactly. Strength and beauty, all together."

Prowl firmly refused to let himself wonder about whether Jazz meant the statue or something else, and they went on. They made their way out of the maze and emerged on the other side of the park. The sunlight was starting to shade to gold, but there were joors yet before true sunset.

"I know I ought to be saving for moving out and everything, but, well, want to grab dinner?" Jazz offered. "My treat?"

Prowl agreed with Jazz's statement that they should be saving, but it was so good to see them happy Prowl couldn't say 'no.' Besides, they had spent so very long trapped, they deserved an evening of at least mild indulgence. So, Prowl agreed, and they found an acceptable café with outdoor seating. Jazz asked questions about, well, everything: Cybertron, Praxus, art, music, entertainment, government and, of course, Prowl. They teased more information about himself out of Prowl than he usually gave, but somehow, he didn't mind telling Jazz.

Over dessert, something occurred to Prowl, and he asked Jazz, "is this a date?"

Jazz selected a rust stick from the assortment they were sharing. "It's whatever you want it to be, Prowler."

"Do you want it to be a date?" Prowl countered.

"It'd only be a date if we both agree it is," Jazz pointed out. "Like I said: it's whatever you want it to be, Prowler. But if you did, then yeah, it would be."

"I – " Prowl shook his head and took a sip of his fuel while he ordered his thoughts. "I'm going to have to decide that retroactively. I don't know what I want yet. I need to think."

Jazz nodded, accepting. "I know. It's okay."

"Two mega-cycles ago, I was debating the existence of ghosts with my sibling and my friends. I thought I would just spend a night in an abandoned house, and nothing would happen. Then I found you, and Barricade and the monastery happened and – well. You know."

"I know," Jazz agreed. "Two mega-cycles ago, I thought I'd be trapped in that attic forever, never get back home, or talk to my kith, or get to see what the mortals had been up to since I was here last. I can't exactly _die_ , not the way you'd understand death, but…yeah. Guessing you're worried that we're only latching on to each other because of shared trauma?"

"It's a concern, yes," Prowl admitted.

Jazz nodded again. "Okay, that's fair. So, want to call this 'not a date?'" they suggested. "I'm picking up that might make you more comfortable."

Prowl smiled a quick, relieved little smile. "Yes, I think it would. So, this is friends having dinner, then?"

"Just friends," Jazz agreed, and snapped the last rust stick in half, offering one to Prowl.

Prowl accepted the treat. "Just friends." For now, at least.

* * *

A deca-cycle passed, and Prowl began to feel more settled. He was still a little unsure about how his new knowledge fitted into his world-view, but it was easier to deal with while living his normal life. Well, more normal: Jazz's presence was a constant reminder but a comforting one. Bluestreak did spend a few nights at home but his patrol shift had gotten moved to nights, so he and Prowl could both use his room without much crossover. Most of Bluestreak's free nights he spent with Hound and Trailbreaker and Prowl began to wonder if he wouldn't move in with his court-mates soon. Prowl would miss his sibling if he did, but he wanted Bluestreak and his friends to be happy and they certainly seemed to be. Jazz proved to be a good houseguest, keeping the space they'd been given neat and clean, never demanding, and respecting their host's wishes. They even offered to contribute financially, though Prowl's creators insisted they not do so and save for their own apartment instead. Still, Prowl wouldn't have been surprised if a few extra coins found their way into the jar Breakneck kept to contain any change he might have.

By the time Prowl had known Jazz for a deca-cycle, he'd come to care for them very much. Their cheerful confidence, their kindness, and the respect they showed Prowl and his family were all very appealing. Prowl looked forward to the time he, or Jazz, came home, and they could sit and talk about – well, everything. Jazz hadn't said anything even hinting about a romantic relationship since the day they'd explored the maze, respecting Prowl's spoken wishes. Still, Prowl had started to wonder if maybe – maybe that first dinner should have been a date after all.

Prowl's life had just begun to settle back into normality, if you disregarded the supernatural being staying in his room, when Jazz didn't come home from the Bight one evening. That wasn't entirely unusual: if Jazz had enough of an audience, they would sometimes stay later to earn a bit more towards getting their own place. But once two cycles had passed, Prowl started to grow concerned and went to look for them.

Prowl found Jazz in the Bight, not far from where they sang during the day. They were sitting on a bench in the shade of a large diamond-willow and talking to an elegantly built, fashionably painted, distressed-looking mech. Towers nobility, Prowl guessed.

Jazz looked up when Prowl approached. "Hey, there, Prowler!"

"Is everything alright?" Prowl asked.

"With me, yeah," Jazz said and shuffled over on the bench a little to give Prowl room to sit down. "Mirage here's got a problem, though. Mirage, go ahead and tell Prowl what's going down at your place. You can trust him."

Mirage's fingers plucked nervously at his knee joint for two nano-kliks, then he quickly folded his hands properly in his lap again. He'd clearly been trained out of making a nervous gesture at some point.

"I-I suppose telling one more person won't make a difference," Mirage said. "To be honest, I'm not even sure why I told you, except…" he trailed off, looking down.

"Jazz inspires trust," Prowl said because it was true. Mirage didn't need to know precisely why that was. "I work with the Enforcers. I'm sure at least one of us can assist you."

"I hope so," Mirage murmured, looking back up. "My family recently came into possession of a small estate in the South Sector," an older section of the city, inhabited by the noble and wealthy, "and gave it over to my use while I attend university in Praxus. The house is…well. The staff won't stay the night, and I lock myself in my suite from sunset to sunrise. My suite feels safe, though I can't tell you why that one room should be when the others aren't. The cellar seems to be the source of it, and the nights are the worst but there's always a sense of-of dread. The house is always dark, even though it should catch sunlight throughout the day and I do my best to fill it with light. I came here to avoid going home and fell to speaking with Jazz, and they've offered to help me."

"Of course we will," Prowl said, without even having to think about it.

Jazz gave him a brilliant smile. "Knew I could count on you, Prowler." They turned back to Mirage, put a hand on his shoulder, and Mirage straightened up and relaxed. "You're strong, to have done this so long. But you don't have to do this alone anymore."

Mirage bowed his head and gratefully murmured, "thank you."

Jazz patted his shoulder and looked up at Prowl. "So, when can you go with me, Prowler?"

Prowl got the sense Jazz wanted to check this out as soon as possible, and Mirage did look very stressed, so Prowl couldn't blame him. Fleetingly, Prowl wondered what his creators would say if he brought home _another_ mech who needed a place to stay and where they could put him. Well, Bluestreak's room, probably, and then Prowl could take a couch or share his bed with Jazz. He could trust Jazz not to read too much into it, after all. Besides, it might be nice to sleep next to someone, sharing their warmth and hearing the hum of their systems. Fortunately, Mirage took the decision into his own hands.

"If it's alright with you, I think I would like to spend a night away from the house before confronting the issue. I'll get a hotel room or stay with a friend tonight."

"Get rested up, huh?" Jazz said approvingly. "Good idea. You're less vulnerable when you're less stressed." They addressed Prowl again. "Tomorrow night good with you, Prowler? Mirage here was saying the worst of it starts around midnight, so we wouldn't need to get started till late."

"That's fine," Prowl said. Plus, unlike the night he'd met Jazz, he'd know to expect something strange, and it would let him give his creators some advance warning about where he'd be.

"Alright." Jazz's hand was still on Mirage's shoulder. "Mirage, go visit your friends and have a good, relaxing night tonight and try not to worry about it tomorrow. Everything's going to be okay."

* * *

Prowl had visited the South Sector when he was younger, on historical tours with his class. It was as he remembered it, seeming almost frozen in time, save for the growth of crystals and other flora. Mirage's home was a ten-bedroom house situated on the centre of a square lot, surrounded by a tall, ornate fence. Even if it was ornate, it was practical: Prowl saw the shimmer of a forcefield. They followed Mirage through the gate. Prowl half expected it to clang shut behind them, but it slid closed smoothly and silently.

"You said your family 'came into possession' of the house," Prowl said as they transformed and walked up to the door. "Not 'bought' or 'inherited.' What did you mean by that?"

"It was a part of my sibling Shade's spouse's dowry," Mirage explained. "His family is rather old-fashioned. But they're on an extended honeymoon and won't be needing the house. I don't think Cirrus knows about the – whatever it is. I-I hope not. I've always thought he has a kind enough spark, I would hate to be wrong."

"Sounds like you're happy for your sib," Jazz observed.

"I am," Mirage said honestly. "Marrying to unite Towers and secure a monopoly – or break one – doesn't always end well. It's one of the reasons the practise has been largely dropped."

"Best to have everyone happy," Jazz agreed. "Commerce can come second – or even further down the line.

"I agree, but when one has a duty to – " Mirage stopped and threw a rueful look over his shoulder. "You know, I don't even really believe that myself?"

"Loyalty is a good thing to have, so long as it's not abused," Jazz replied.

Mirage let them in, the door seeming to open into a far darker hall than it should. Before he'd even taken his first complete step inside the house, Prowl felt as he had when walking into the abandoned house where he'd found Jazz. It was stronger here, though, more like the heavy feeling of the attic Jazz had been chained in. Something there was angry but not in the way Jazz had been. Jazz had been angry and afraid, but they were justified in feeling so and would not have harmed anyone, save in self-defence. This, whatever this was, was bitter, hateful, and cruel in a way Jazz could never be.

"I'm right here," Jazz murmured, brushing Prowl's hand with his own. It was a friendly gesture, no more, but Prowl felt as if static had just fizzed over his hand. But, he could think about that later. Everything about this house said 'threat' and Prowl wanted to get done and get out.

"You've been staying here alone?" Prowl asked Mirage. "Was anyone else here with you at any point?"

"The servants, the first night," Mirage said. "They didn't want to stay after that. I couldn't blame them."

"What did you do?" Jazz wanted to know.

"I sent them home with pay until I can ask them to return."

"Are there a lot of nobles willing to do that?" Jazz asked curiously. Prowl also was curious to hear Mirage's answer.

"I don't think so," Mirage admitted. "A lot of them would probably dismiss the servants instead, seeing as they weren't willing to perform their duties as instructed, at least in part. Most, I'm sure."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Whether a mech is servant-caste or not, they shouldn't be expected to work where they feel unsafe."

Jazz nodded, looking pleased. "Right you are mech. I'll take care of this thing for you, but will you show me where you've been holing up at night, first? I'm curious about how or why you've been keeping safe when the whole place feels like this.."

"So it is dangerous," Mirage murmured, before saying a little louder, "this way, please."

Prowl had never been in an upper-caste residence before. It looked a lot like he would have expected from the outside: tasteful and expensive. At the same time, it was clean but _felt_ gritty, felt as if dust and dirt gathered in the corners. The lights should have been bright and clear, but Prowl felt as if he should activate his low-light visual protocols. Prowl tucked his doors in close to his body, feeling as if he didn't want to touch the walls. Mirage walked with perfect posture, although his movements looked a touch stiff to Prowl's optics. The mech had been far more graceful, though still distressed, in the park. Prowl couldn't blame him. This place was making him tense as well. Only Jazz seemed unaffected, but of course, Jazz was Jazz. They probably weren't affected, and that helped Prowl stay calmer than he would have been otherwise. Besides, he trusted Jazz and knew Jazz cared and wouldn't let anything happen to him.

Mirage led them up the stairs to his suite and Prowl felt lighter as soon as he walked through the door.

"I don't know what's so different about the room," Mirage said, "but it isn't as bad in here. I've even managed to sleep a few times."

"Well, let's have a look and see why this place might be protected, or at least not as bad as the rest of the place."

That was a signal to Prowl to start questioning Mirage, as Prowl and Jazz had discussed earlier.

"How long have you been in Praxus?" Prowl asked Mirage as Jazz began their examination.

"Only a short while," Mirage replied. "I transferred mid-semester from the University of Iacon."

"What made you choose Praxus?"

"I – well, it's the furthest I can get from our Towers in Iacon." Mirage looked away, one arm wrapped over his body, gripping the opposite elbow with his hand. "I know I shouldn't complain, but being rich doesn't solve all your problems. It can be…stifling. Among other things."

"Hey," Jazz said gently. "You might be rich, but that doesn't mean you can't have problems of your own. Just don't treat them worse than anyone else's problems and keep some perspective, yeah?"

"Yes," Mirage murmured. He looked relieved by Jazz's words – Jazz's permission, maybe? "And I know they aren't, mostly. I believe it's fair to call this an exception."

"Oh yeah," Jazz said with a nod. "Definitely. "You got something nastier than you knew hanging out here. The worst part of the house is the basement, am I right?"

"Yes."

"'Course it is. But stay here. This room's safe because someone real devout lived here once. Imbued this place with their belief that it was safe, and so," Jazz shrugged, "it is. Safer than anywhere else in the house, anyway. Keeps it out but lets enough of your fear through for it to feed."

"It feeds on fear?" Prowl asked. "What is it?"

"A kind of lesser demon, I guess you'd call it," Jazz told them. "It's very strong, stronger than a new infestation would be, been here for a long time, feeding and growing. Might even have been here before the house. Makes it hard to dismiss."

"Dismiss it?" Mirage sounded surprised. "But it feels so powerful."

"Yeah, it's powerful enough," Jazz said, far more casually than Prowl would have. "Especially now. They get dug in, like a circuit-tick and they're about as hard to remove."

"But, they can be removed. Like circuit-ticks can be removed with the right tools," Mirage surmised, and Jazz smiled at him.

"Yup! So, you stay here nice and safe, and I'll go remove the tick for you, okay?"

"I'm going with you," Prowl said firmly, falling into step with Jazz as they headed for the door. Jazz could handle themselves, Prowl knew, but he didn't want them to go down to the cellar alone. He thought Jazz might ask him if he were sure, but they only patted him on the shoulder, trusting Prowl to know what he wanted.

"Thought you would. Thanks, Prowler."

Prowl almost regretted his decision when Jazz opened the cellar door. The lights didn't come on in the ramp-well automatically – servants apparently didn't rate stairs – or even when Jazz tried the manual controls. The darkness in the cellar seemed unnatural, as did the cold that spilled through the open doorway.

"You can still go back, Prowl," Jazz said, with a gentle touch to the back of Prowl's hand. "It's alright to be afraid. There really are things in the dark that can hurt you."

"I know," Prowl said, and turned his hand to wrap his fingers around Jazz's. "There was Barricade and the shadow creature, and now this, but…but I found you in the dark as well."

Jazz's smile was warm, affectionate, and proud. "Yeah, you did. Alright, let's go."

They descended the ramp. Jazz didn't let go of Prowl's hand, and Prowl didn't try to let go either.

The blackness was much worse down below the stairs. Upstairs, in the main part of the house, the feeling that it was darker than it should be had been an illusion. Here, it was inky and absolute, and he relied on nonvisual sensors and Jazz's guidance. Jazz didn't seem to have any trouble navigating, and the data Prowl's sensors were feeding him told him it wasn't because the space was empty. There were items there, stored and covered in dust, spare pieces of furniture that had been broken and abandoned. As with the house in the woods, there were no traces of mechanimal life even though someplace safe from acid rain and unused should have attracted them. Prowl would have expected at least traps or deterrents but there was nothing.

He didn't have to ask where Jazz was leading him. Prowl could feel it, could feel the cold and darkness increasing as they approached where this thing…laired.

The creature knew they were there, knew they were approaching. Prowl could feel it, could sense its focus on the two of them. The cold increased and Prowl's thermal-regulation systems diverted power from nonvital areas to maintain his body temperature. He still felt as if he ought to be cold. He wanted to shiver, even if it was irrational.

Jazz's hand was warm in his, though.

"Jazz," Prowl murmured.

"Yeah," Jazz said. "It knows we're here. I've got a bead on it, too, though. It's an old one, like I said, real old. Old enough to have moved beyond instinct, to understand a little. But you can't stay here," they said, addressing the creature. "It's not your place, you've got no business here on the mortal plane. They're not yours to feed on."

Something low, like infrasound, but with the feel of language, thrummed through Prowl's superstructure. A reply? Jazz treated it like one.

"I'm not here to feed," Jazz answered. "I'm here to guide and protect. You know what happens if you don't go on your own. I'm going to have to protect them against you."

Another reply, stronger and angrier, vibrating unpleasantly through Prowl's armour, even through his teeth. Jazz sighed.

"Alright, well, I tried. I'll try not to make it hurt too much."

It took a couple of nano-kliks before Prowl could see anything but the darkness began to lessen. Jazz had a hand raised, held out in front of them, and as the room lightened, Prowl could see movement in the air. It was as if something vast and amorphous were writhing, just visible, in crude oil. While he watched, it seemed to shrink in on itself, and its rage rose till it rattled his armour, then even more swiftly began to fade. The room was lighter, so much lighter, the creature now only a flat circle in the air, then Jazz closed his hand, and it was gone. Prowl _felt_ it go.

"Are you still okay, Prowler?" Jazz asked, turning to face him.

"Yes." Even if Prowl hadn't seen the creature go, he wouldn't have needed to ask. "Are you?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. It was strong, but I'm stronger." Jazz took Prowl's other hand. "Still glad you were here with me. It's always better to have company for encounters like this, especially good, brave company like yours, Prowler."

"I don't feel brave," Prowl confessed. "I just…didn't feel afraid. I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to me."

"Nope," Jazz agreed, "and I never will."

Prowl had the urge to step closer to Jazz, to see what kind of invitation they would make, or maybe accept. But he rethought it. If something were to happen between them, Prowl didn't want it to be someplace like this.

"We should go check on Mirage," he said instead.

"Sure."

As they walked back to Mirage's room, Prowl couldn't help but notice how much cleaner and brighter the house felt. Mirage would surely already know that the creature in the cellar was gone, but they could hardly just leave. Indeed, when they got to the landing of the floor that Mirage's room was on, the young noble was standing in the hall looking around.

"It's like a different house," Mirage said, sounding as if he hardly believed it. "All that time and you just – how long is it gone for?"

"Always," Jazz said frankly. "They're gone, and I sealed the portal behind them. House is good, it'll stay good."

"I just – thank you so much!" Mirage said, honest and sincere. "Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"

"Mm…not yet," Jazz said thoughtfully. "No, not yet. But, one day I'm definitely going to take you up on that, Mirage. Anyway, you go get a decent night's sleep, for the first time in a while, I'm guessing, and we're going to head out."

"Nice night," Jazz observed, looking up at the stars as they left the house and walked down the driveway. "Want to check out downtown, see what's going on, fun-wise?"

"I've never been much of one going clubbing or anything like that," Prowl admitted. But, it had already been an unusual night, and he wasn't sure he was ready to go back to his normal life – or what passed for it now, anyway. "But perhaps we can find something that would suit us both?" Prowl thought about how much he'd found himself enjoying Jazz's company, how warm and natural their hand had felt in his. "And, I think – I think we can call this one a date."

"Yeah," Jazz said, smiling at him and taking his hand again. "Yeah, I think we can."

**Author's Note:**

> Topaz is, to those who use crystals for healing, used for "connecting to one’s angels, [and] spirit guides." [Source - #17.](https://www.yogiapproved.com/health-wellness/healing-crystals-guide/)
> 
> [Bight](https://www.dictionary.com/browse/bight) _noun_ (3) a bend or curve in the shore of a sea or river, (4) a body of water bounded by such a bend.


End file.
